


Rumors And Whispers

by secretfeanorian



Series: We, The Voyagers [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Crack, F/M, starts off kind of serious, then gets more cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-12 15:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17469848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretfeanorian/pseuds/secretfeanorian
Summary: The first time it happens, Kei'tlya writes it off as a weird one time thing. The only problem with that is she continues to notice similar events.





	Rumors And Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> So I wasn't actually being serious when I threatened to write a crack fic based on that headcanon I posted a while ago [here](http://secretfeanorian.tumblr.com/post/181759137878), buuut then I did.
> 
> Also, I almost left the working title of Love At First Stabbing, but decided to save that for if I ever actually wrote the thing Riv'aria and Ikraaka are working on.

The first time it happens, Kei’tlya writes it off as some random one time occurrence. At her request, Arcann has accompanied her on a routine trip to visit diplomatic allies. He fought the idea the whole way, insisting that it would make her job more difficult. This had, if anything, only succeeded in making her more determined for him to come along, still unable to find a way to get him to stop beating on himself, and he had eventually caved in.  
  
In a break between meetings, while she is off lurking in a corner preparing herself to deal with more people, he appears from wherever he’s been hiding and wanders over to her. They chat idly about a variety of topics, nothing that requires too much attention.  
  
Over the course of their conversation, some part of Kei’tlya’s brain notes that they’ve begun to gravitate towards each other, to the point where their hands are almost touching. The same part of her brain points out that maybe she should do something about that. They’re in public and away from the Alliance, after all.  
  
She can’t really bring herself to care enough, certainly not enough to remind Arcann of who and where they are. Instead, she continues to stand there, pretending to watch the rest of the room and not him; just barely stopping herself from leaning against him.  
  
It isn’t long before she starts to feel the prickle on the back of her neck that means she’s being watched. Without saying anything to Arcann, she performs a cursory sweep of the room. No one is overtly staring at them, but the prickle doesn’t go away. She tilts her head, seemingly at random, and listens instead.  
  
Beside her, Arcann seems to have caught onto her cues and out of the corner of her eye, she sees his shoulders start to hunch in on themselves. A protective snarl builds in her throat, though she manages to prevent its escape. Her next scan of the room is marginally more hostile, but she still doesn’t see anyone. Arcann has fallen silent and is practically leaning away from her now. She doesn’t bother disguising the irritation on her face, grabs his arm, and pulls him over to the couch pressed against the wall a little ways away. He hesitates, but sits down next to her and she settles against his side ever so slightly.  
  
Her eyes sweep the room a third time. The challenge is still in her eyes, daring anyone to even think of starting anything. This time, she finally catches sight of their observers. A small group of Alliance personnel are clustered by the door, whispering to each other and openly staring at them. They realize she’s noticed them within seconds, but her glare doesn’t scatter them like she hoped. Instead, it appears to send them into a fit of giggles.  
  
The mild irritation that had taken hold of her starts to boil, and she pointedly turns away from them to engage Arcann in conversation again. He’s still on edge, but at some point the prickle on her neck fades away and the tension in his shoulders starts to bleed away.  
  
When she has to leave for another meeting half an hour later, she catches no sight of the whispering soldiers and the incident slips from her mind.

* * *

The second time is a bit more difficult to forget. This time, it happens on Odessen. A group of diplomats from the Republic have been on planet for about a week, hashing out the details of a more formal treaty. She hasn’t had to deal with them much personally, however. Eshnserria has been handling the majority of the negotiations and she’s forgotten about their presence in that particular moment.  
  
She’s coming out of an informal briefing with Lana and Zil’ulma about a recruitment mission that’s just wrapped up and not really paying attention to where she’s going, too distracted by mentally trying to plan out her day.  
  
She wanders into the War Room, headed for the elevator, and pauses when she sees the large cluster of people gathered there. It takes a few heartbeats for her to remember who they are and by the time she does, a few of them have already noticed her standing there. Eshnserria notices she’s lost the attention of part of her audience and clears her throat pointedly. Their eyes slide away from Kei’tlya and back to her former apprentice just as Arcann enters the room from a different hallway.  
  
Thoughts of work flee her mind almost instantly and she moves to the other side of the room to speak to him. She feels several pairs of eyes on her back when she stops next to him.  
  
A smile makes its way onto his face as soon as he sees her and she smiles back, his grin infectious. For a moment, they just stand there, enjoying the other’s proximity and not thinking of the eyes on them.  
  
Then an unfamiliar voice calls out to Kei’tlya and she reluctantly turns to see what they want. The diplomats have a handful of questions that, now that they’ve spotted the Commander of the Alliance, they refuse to direct to anyone else. Eshnserria shoots her an apologetic look, to which Kei’tlya shrugs ever so slightly. “What can you do?” Her expression reads.  
  
Arcann stands behind her for a few minutes, but when it becomes clear they’re going to keep her there for a while longer yet, his hand comes to rest lightly on her shoulder. She turns her attention briefly back to him, and he tilts his head toward the elevator. She nods to confirm she understands what he’s saying. Her hand comes up to squeeze his before he moves it and wanders out of the room to find Senya.  
  
She hesitates to turn back for a moment too long and feels Eshnserria nudge her mind. When she jumps and does turn back, there’s a knowing smile on the Togruta’s face and several of the visiting diplomats are whispering. A few of them have surprised looks on their faces and Kei’tlya feels her cheeks heat up. She gives no other reaction to what is certainly a rumor building right in front of her, however, and goes right back to the question she’d been in the middle of answering before Arcann interrupted her.

* * *

The third time she notices it is technically her fault. She’s been practically bouncing around the Alliance base all day. Her good mood hasn’t gone unnoticed since she normally spends most of her day stalking around with a firmly neutral expression on her face. Riv’aria had already said something at breakfast, trying to get an embarrassed spluttering out of her. Senya had also sent her a knowing smile when they passed each other in the hall earlier and she is pointedly _not_ thinking about that.  
  
Lost in thought, she doesn’t notice that she’s ended up in the cantina until she almost runs into a group of Jedi and Sith making their way out. She curses instinctively under her breath and ducks out of their way, muttering an apology. She misses the confused looks they shoot each other as she grins broadly at them. Clearing her throat, she spins on her heels and walks back the way she’d just come, whistling ever so softly.  
  
She doesn’t miss the whispers that break out behind her as soon as they think she’s out of earshot and she stops whistling long enough to snicker under her breath.  
  
Arcann is leaning against the wall ahead of her, watching her progress with a matching smile on his face. The snicker turns into full blown laughter and he pushes off the wall, his smile growing wider. When he reaches her, she swings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him toward her. He goes without resisting, laughing softly the whole way.  
  
They’re exposed out in the hall, but neither of them cares today, and Kei’tlya pulls him into a kiss. She’s fairly certain she can hear the group of Force sensitives’ whisperings pick up again and while she can’t see it, there’s a brief exchanging of credits at the end of the hallway.

* * *

The fourth time she really notices it isn’t exactly the fourth time, as she’s noticed people’s eyes lingering on her whenever she’s speaking to Arcann after that day. It’s always within the Alliance itself however, and she hardly worries about what they think anymore. They may have started off intending their relationship to be secret, but at this point it’s more of an open secret within the Alliance; a stage whisper. They don’t call attention to themselves and Alliance personnel pretend to not notice.  
  
But this time is different than all that. This time, Arcann isn’t even on the same planet. She’s on Nar Shaddaa with Kallia’lasmi and a small escort of soldiers, overseeing the latest in a series of talks between the Empire and Republic.  
  
The building this particular meeting is taking place in belongs to the former Cipher Nine (although neither the Imperial or Republic delegations are aware of that) and the decorations match what little she knows of the Ghost’s personality. She’s looking at one of the pieces of artwork hanging on the wall in the lobby when she hears raised voices coming from one of the sitting rooms. One of them she recognizes as the captain of her guard. Her brow furrows. She thinks she recognizes the other voices as other members of her guard and wonders what is going on.  
  
As she makes her way toward the doorway, she suddenly hears her name and freezes. Before she has any chance at all to worry about why she’s being mentioned, there’s the unmistakable sound of someone being punched. She jumps back, unable to prevent the startled sound that escapes her. Of all the things she had been expecting, that was not even close to one of them.  
  
She creeps closer once no further sounds come from the room. Peering in the doorway feels like too much of a risk, so she pauses a few feet away from it and listens. She hears her name mentioned again, then Arcann’s. Her guard captain’s tone is defensive and she feels a wave of astonishment wash over her. Jayarlia has never been anything but dismissive of Arcann that she’s aware.  
  
Slowly, realization dawns on her as to exactly what this argument must be about, helped in part by the next thing that leaves one of the imperial soldiers’ mouth. Her cheeks burn, but she hears someone being held back, probably Jayarlia being stopped from punching him again. They’re fighting about her and Arcann, specifically the fact that they’re rumored to be sleeping together.  
  
Vaguely horrified by the thought, she backs away from the doorway. Later, she’ll look back and feel indescribably grateful for Jay leaping so fervently to their defense, but right now all she can think is a wave of embarrassment. She had no idea that information had made its way outside of the Alliance.  
  
Someone clears their throat behind her and she manage to _not_ jump ten feet in the air, although it’s a close thing. When she turns around, the Ghost is watching her with one raised eyebrow. Now in addition to the astonishment and the embarrassment, she also feels just the tiniest bit guilty for being caught eavesdropping.  
  
It feels like the Chiss woman is about to say something, maybe call her out, but before either of them can so much as open their mouth, another shout erupts from the room just behind them. Her eyes shoot from Kei’tlya to the door and her lip curls.  
  
Without saying a word, she pushes past the Sith and storms into the room. Kei’tlya can hear her start to chew out the practically brawling soldiers but doesn’t stay to listen. Instead, she takes the opportunity to bolt to almost the other side of the building. Her cheeks are _still_ burning.

* * *

The _next_ time it comes to her attention that people are whispering about them, she isn’t even the one to hear it. Arcann is.  
  
He finds her one morning while she’s meditating outside. The field where her ship is normally parked has a beautiful view of the sunrise and on the days where she’s awake early enough, she likes to greet the day there.  
  
There’s an unspoken rule not to disturb her when she’s mediating and while Arcann is one of the few to whom that rule does not apply, he normally follows it anyway. So when she senses him approaching, she immediately pulls herself out of her half trance to focus on him. He pauses momentarily when he sees she’s noticed him, then finishes his approach and sits down next to her.  
  
At first, he doesn’t say anything and Kei’tlya’s eyes slide closed again while she waits for him to find the right words.  
  
The longer he goes without saying anything, the more her worry ramps up until finally she opens her eyes again. Arcann is watching her, a baffled yet fond expression on his face. The confusion clears when he meets her eyes, but now it’s migrated onto her face. The suspense is starting to drive her crazy and Arcann must be picking up on that, because he leans against her and starts to explain.  
  
He’d been talking to Elmisissa about an hour ago; they’d run into each other in the hangar. She’d mentioned a certain rumor that had started making its way around certain circles (and Kei’tlya feels a small twinge of annoyance form at the mention of it).  
  
Arcann had waved the question off, but when he was making his way back to their quarters to find something to eat, he’d had an unusual encounter. It’s not unusual for people to be hostile around or sometimes directly at Arcann, but this had been different.  
  
He’d gotten most of the way to her door without running into anyone. The base had been uncommonly quiet this morning. He'd passed a group of teenagers and heard them start whisper-giggling when he turned down the right hall.  
  
Curious, he'd lingered until they thought he’d walked out of earshot. “I fucking _told_ you!” One of them had hissed to the others, starting off another round of giggles.  
  
When he passed the same group a few minutes later on his way back out, one of them had called out something filthy in a language he had pretended not to understand.  
  
Kei’tlya’s cheeks flush darker red when he repeats the sentence in basic. This is getting a little out of control, she thinks and then says. Arcann laughs and mutters something about it being a minor miracle that he’d managed to not blush bright red and give away that he’d understood them. When Lana comes out to speak to Kei’tlya ten or so minutes later, she finds them still in half embarrassed hysterics.

* * *

Several months pass this time before it happens again. When it does, it’s entirely Riv’aria’s fault.  
  
Key members of the Alliance upper circles are visiting Zakuul, as well as high ranking Imperials and Republic Senators. In essence, it’s several days of schmoozing and pretending like half the room doesn’t desperately want to kill the other half. Kei’tlya thinks she just might be on the verge of going crazy for real (again).  
  
So when she walks in on her sister actually encouraging the…rumor to spread, it takes her a few moments to realize that she is, in fact, seeing that. She walks over to the desk and makes a point of looking over her shoulder at the screen of her datapad.  
  
Riv’aria’s shriek when she finally notices Kei’tlya standing behind her is a winner and the way she immediately moves to block her view of the screen is extremely telling.  
  
Kei’tlya just stares at her, not saying anything for a long time and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, but her expression remains infuriatingly unashamed. Kei’tlya gives in first, looking away. She doesn’t stop trying to look at her sister’s datapad however, and Riv’aria finally just sits on it to prevent that. She fixes her with another nasty look, but this just serves to drive her into hysterics.  
  
“What exactly are you doing?” Kei’tlya’s tone could stop a rancor in its tracks, but Riv’aria only laughs harder. When she continues to glare at her without saying a word, she stops her giggling long enough to blurt out something about Ikraaka, then gets right back to it. The mention of the former Darth Nox’s name only makes Kei’tlya more suspicious. “What are you and Ikra up to?”  
  
Something in her voice, some catch, must finally get Riv’aria’s attention because she stops laughing and straightens up. “Nothing…bad.” She cocks a brow at the hesitation and Riv’aria snickers again. “I promise, Kei, we’re not doing anything to damage your reputation...permanently.”  
  
Kei’tlya has a feeling she knows exactly what the two of them have been up to and takes another swipe at the datapad. Her sister clearly wasn’t expecting her to try again, because she moves too slowly to block her this time. She powers the datapad back on. At first, she’s not entirely sure what she’s looking at. Then, a message from Ikraaka pops up in the corner of the screen, “great start, but i’m thinking there has definitely got to be some bodice ripping,” and it sinks in.  
  
Riv’aria appears to be expecting some violent reaction from the way she’s sitting, staring wide-eyed at Kei’tlya. Instead, she picks a spot in the writing and begins reading it out loud, as loud as she can. “Arcann leans against the wall, a cocky smirk fiercely planted on his face. Watching him, the Commander feels a-” Riv’aria shrieks and shoots out of her chair. Kei’tlya holds the datapad over her head, using her slightly higher stature to keep it out of her sister’s hand. They swat at each other for a few minutes, with Kei’tlya steadily going higher and higher on the tips of her toes.  
  
Trying to get it out of Riv’aria’s reach also takes it out of Kei’tlya’s sight and she tilts her neck at an uncomfortable angle to continue reading, “-the Commander feels a shiver shoot up her spine. She wants to shove him down onto the bed and fu-”  
  
From the entrance of the room, someone splutters violently and both Kei’tlya and Riv’aria freeze. As one, they turn to face the intruder. Kei’tlya doesn’t recognize the diplomat or the solider standing there and feels the first traces of panic bubble up.  
  
Taking advantage of the distraction, Riv’aria jumps up and snatches her datapad back. She then proceeds to break it over her knee and tosses the halves to opposite ends of the room.  
  
Pulled out of her panicking, Kei’tlya turns away from the door to stare at her sister. “…Why did you do that?” Riv’aria opens her mouth to respond, then stops. She thinks for a moment, trying to come up with a valid reason, but gives up and shrugs. Without intending to, Kei’tlya starts to giggle. Riv’aria clears her throat, and this just makes her laugh even harder.  
  
Finally, the other woman starts to snicker and soon they’re leaning against each other just to stay upright.  
  
By the time their giggle fit has passed, the doorway is long empty again, but Kei’tlya has no doubt that this particular story will have made its way all across the Alliance before dinner.

* * *

The next time is only a few days later and almost certainly the result of a sparring session between her and Arcann. He doesn’t normally spar with her, getting a pinched look on his face when she so much as suggests it. But today, both of them had excess steam to blow off and Kei’tlya enjoys the adrenaline rush that comes from sparring someone in an evenly matched fight.  
  
They didn’t have an audience when they’d first squared off; the room mostly empty with only a few people milling about. By the time they’re sweaty and exhausted, the match has gathered quite the crowd and none of them are even pretending not to stare.  
  
Kei’tlya meets Arcann’s eyes, then rolls hers. Arcann smirks and tosses her a towel. He’s very pointedly not looking at her exposed midsection. Now that she’s noticed that, she can sense traces of lingering guilt emanating from him. Too worn out to have this argument again, she just smacks his shoulder as she dries herself off.  
  
The crowd starts to disperse, but a few clusters of people remain. From across the room, she hears someone whisper “I’m telling you, they are totally sleeping together.” From the way Arcann flushes red and immediately turns away from her, she guesses he heard it too.  
  
Instead of pretending she can’t hear their conversation and following Arcann to the showers, she stands in the center of the room and tilts her head toward the sound of it.  
  
“Nah man, I think you’ve been cooped up on this base too long. The Commander’s just being friendly.”  
  
“You’re not even part of the Alliance. Trust me, the Commander is plenty friendly, but she doesn’t touch anyone else like that.”  
  
“You expect me to believe that?”  
  
“It’s the truth.”  
  
Kei’tlya shakes her head and snorts without meaning. The cluster of people that had been gossiping all jump practically in sync. Snickering at the fact that they hadn’t realized she was still in the room, she swipes the towel across her forehead a final time and wanders out of the room.  
  
The last thing she hears is the visiting man say to his friend, “See, even the Commander thinks you’re crazy.”  
  
Part of her wants to go back and shout “Not!” in his face, but she restrains herself to just muttering it under her breath.

* * *

By the time someone actually _says_ something to Kei’tlya, she’s been aware of the whisperings for quite some time. And it comes from Zil’ulma, of all people.  
  
Zil has, for reasons unknown to Kei’tlya, decided that she likes Arcann and that no one is allowed to trash talk him within her earshot. (She announced this change of heart one afternoon by electrocuting another Sith who’d been muttering about rabid dogs needing to be put down when Arcann came up.)  
  
She’s eating breakfast one morning when Zil’ulma storms into the room. She sees a few people shoot the albino twi’lek nervous glances but doesn’t react to her apprentice’s presence until there’s a thud from the other side of the table and she looks up to see Zil staring at her. The look in her eyes is frustrated confusion and Kei’tlya mentally takes a deep breath.  
  
After a few moments of staring, she slams her elbows down on the table and blurts out, “You know tons of people think you and Arcann are fucking?”  
  
Despite guessing what was bugging the younger woman, the blunt way she says it still makes Kei’tlya choke on her food. Rather than risk a repeat, she swallows and pushes her plate aside to focus all of her attention on Zil. “Well, I mean, we kind of are,” is the response that finally leaves her lips, after a few glances across the room to reassure herself that no one is listening too closely.  
  
Zil’ulma makes an agitated noise deep in her throat and then shakes her head so fiercely that one of her lekku just about wraps itself around her neck. “No, I mean they _think_ they know.”  
  
Kei’tlya still isn’t quite sure what she is trying to tell her and so after a moment longer to think about it, she says as much. Zil glares at her, but there’s none of the real heat behind it, so she doesn’t even react. She thinks she must be tip-toeing around something and resists the urge to tell her to just spit it out.  
  
“Theythinkyou’refuckingtheythinktheyknowhowandthey’rewritingaboutit,” She finally says, all in one breath. Kei’tlya can’t quite contain the laugh that wells up and Zil’s expression changes to one of genuine offense.  
  
Seeing this, she swallows it back down and tries to think of an appropriate reaction. “Perils of being famous,” she says. “I just try not to think about the fact that people are getting off on the thought of a fictional version of me having sex with a fictional version of my boyfriend.” Zil still seems bothered by the thought and Kei’tlya continues with, “Besides, I’m pretty sure Ikra and Ari are co-writing one of them and so I just start laughing whenever I think about it.”  
  
With that, Zil’ulma’s face turns murderous and she stands up abruptly.  
  
Internally cursing, Kei’tlya reaches over and pulls her back down. “Hey, I don’t mind-” She cuts herself off mid-thought. “Ok, I kind of do, but it’s not worth murdering people over.”  
  
“You sure?” Zil’ulma asks, genuinely wondering rather than sarcastic and Kei’tlya spares a single second to curse Zurx.  
  
“I don’t mind _that_ much,” she says, voice firm.  
  
Zil’ulma stares into her eyes for a long moment, then huffs and pulls her arm out of her grip. “Fine. I won’t threaten any more people over it.”  
  
“Thank yo-wait, any _more_?” Kei’tlya asks, concern settling over her, but Zil’ulma is already on her way out of the room. If she hears her, she pretends not to. Kei’tlya watches her retreating back and sighs loudly.  
  
From a nearby table, a Knight she sort of recognizes leans over and calls out, “You really sure you don’t want people threatened over it?”  
  
Her eyes jerk over to the man, who doesn’t look even remotely sorry. The sigh turns into a groan, but she doesn’t bother asking how many people in the room have been doing that, sensing she doesn’t want to know the answer. “Yes, I’m sure,” she calls back. “No threatening people just because they have terrible taste in porn.”  
  
Scattered laughter makes its way across the room as the Knight nods once and turns back to his food. “Menaces,” she mutters in a stage whisper and hears a few more people laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> OC Round Up:  
> Kei'tlya: My main, canon Sith Inquisitor and Outlander.  
> Eshnserria: One of Kei'tlya's apprentices. She's a Togruta assassin who's more of a diplomat than a scholar.  
> Zil'ulma: Another of Kei's apprentices. Twi'lek healing sorcerer with a fucked up past and nicknamed the Murder Child.  
> Kallia'lasmi: My canon Jedi Consular and the Alliance's chief diplomat.  
> "The Ghost" (Eld'sherihee): My canon Imperial Agent; who works with the Alliance, but never gives out her name and is known only as the Ghost to 99% of the galaxy.  
> Jayarlia: Ex-Zakuulan Knight Captain who defected to the Alliance thanks to Senya and helped to free Kei'tlya from the Spire. She's in charge of Kei's honor guard.  
> Elmisissa: Former Exarch in training. Years before KotFE, she abandons Zakuul, but her three sisters remain on Zakuul. Two go on to be Exarchs and the third is a Scion. Shortly before Valkorion is ..."killed", she smuggles her youngest sister and a barely alive Thexan off of Zakuul and spends the next five years keeping them out of Arcann's reach. They join the Alliance either before the Outlander is broken out of carbonite or in the gap between KotFE and KotET. It depends which I feel like thinking about.  
> Riv'aria: My canon Trooper and Kei'tlya's until recently estranged twin sister.  
> Ikraaka: My Darth Nox, former head of the Sphere of Technology. (Yes, this created quite the mess when I had to deal with that and the fact that Acina is Empress in KotET) She was also in a relationship with Darth Marr and one day I'll actually write about how that happened because it's fucking hysterical.


End file.
